Roses are Red
by MindPalace1895
Summary: After learning that Moriarty is targeting her and Sherlock, Molly sets out on a mission to end him once and for all. Set directly after HLV, eventual Sherlolly.


**A/N: After reading so many amazing Sherlock fanfics, I decided to try my hand at writing one with help from my sister iamsherlocked998! Enjoy**

**Dislaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock or any of the characters**

Chapter One

Molly Hooper knew she was many things, but easily scared was not one of them. But the moment she saw his face appear on the television at St. Bart's hospital she felt an emotion course through her that she had not felt since hearing the words "Molly, I think I am going to die" uttered from her favourite consulting detective's mouth. Fear, cold as ice, flowed through her veins and caused her to take a jolt backwards in alarm as a gasp crossed her lips.

Forcing her brain to think logically, she told herself that this was not a sure sign that her psychopath ex-boyfriend inhabited the land of the living. This could be a hoax by anyone. It could even be a last-ditch effort by Mycroft to make sure Sherlock stayed in England. With a deep breath, Molly reined in her emotions and decided she was going to attempt to continue her workday as normal.

Trying her best to ignore her erratically pounding heart she stepped back into the morgue to start her next post-mortem. Molly wheeled out the body and set about preparing her supplies, he heart rate slowly returning to normal and her mind beginning to wander to other things.

Sliding the zipper down on the body bag of the John Doe, she couldn't help but noticed that the body's hair and facial structure looked remarkably similar to Sherlock. Her hands started to shake.

"It's just a coincidence, there are many men in London with dark, curly hair and high cheekbones", Molly reassured herself as she slowly continued to zip the bag down further.

Molly froze. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Carved precisely into the skin of the victim directly below his heart was a poem, clearly legible despite being crusted over with dried blood.

_Roses are red,_

_Violets are blue,_

_Death can be beat,_

_And he can be too._

_If you missed me,_

_As I know you do,_

_His heart can be burnt,_

_By none other than you._

Every doubt that this was not Moriarty left Molly's mind, no one else had the audacity and frankly insane nature that he had: to carve a version of a well known poem into a man's chest just to send a message.

Looking over the poem more carefully, she tried to deduce its true meaning. The first part was easy enough. "Death can be beat" clearly referred to Sherlock faking his death, and Moriarty apparently faking his as well. Molly gathered that the "he" in "And he can be too" meant Sherlock. Moriarty was going to target Sherlock once again this much was obvious.

The first two lines of the second half were more ambiguous. "If you missed me" quoted the video she had seen not an hour ago broadcasted on her television, which showed that it had been planned that the body would come into her morgue at a specific time, so she could understand the meaning of the poem.

Molly knew that she had definitely not missed Moriarty. She hadn't missed him using her, playing with her emotions to get closer to Sherlock. And she certainly hadn't missed his games with Sherlock, putting his life at risk several times.

The cold air of the morgue seeped though her lab coat and thick jumper she was wearing as she contemplated what this meant for her and for Sherlock. Both of them were in danger, as well as the rest of England.

Taking a deep breath Molly slowly zipped the body back into its bag and walked over to a nearby stool. Sitting down, she lowered her head into her hands and tried to think clearly.

There were many feeling coursing through her body, but one rose above the others to sharpen her mind on the action she wanted to take.

Anger, above all else, took hold of Molly's brain. Anger at Moriarty for his games and for targeting Sherlock one again, anger at herself for letting her emotions be toyed with, and anger at Sherlock for leaving the country without so much as a goodbye.

However, her anger at herself and Sherlock paled in comparison to the rage she felt for Moriarty. He had promised to burn the heart out of Sherlock, he had told her this much. Moriarty needed to be stopped, and even though Molly knew she had no formal training and had only shot a gun once, she felt absolutely positive she had the power to do it.

This couldn't be some rash, spur of the moment plan to take down the greatest criminal of the time, this needed planning, and she needed help.

Molly made her way back to the locker room to collect her things to make the journey home, planning on doing the post mortem for the man with the poem on his chest first thing in the morning. As she was gathering her things she heard a rather ominous knock on the door.

Dashing behind the door to the restroom she crouched down and wondered to herself how she could ever plan on taking down Moriarty if a simple knock on the door frightened her so much.

"Molly? Molly, I know you're in here. I can smell your perfume and your bag is laying across the bench."

To Molly's relief the consulting detectives voice echoed around the small locker room. She jumped up from her hiding place, a blush starting to colour her cheeks.

"Sherlock! What are you doing here? John told me you'd been sent away? Did you see Moriarty's ba- oh of course you would have. I mean, that's probably why, you're probably back in the country because of it."

She cursed herself for reverting back to stuttering in her surprise of seeing his face so unexpectedly in the locker room once again.

"Yes Molly, of course I saw it. Now, enough with the frivolities, obviously if Moriarty is truly back he is targeting me, and through association you as well. Now, I was thinking that if Mycroft is able to set up some sort of protection for you, maybe if you just stay-"

"No Sherlock, I don't want to stay cooped up with Mycroft watching my every move"

If Molly was sure of one thing, it was that she didn't want to be treated like a child, like some poor defenseless woman who sat behind while all the men took care of everything.

Stalking towards him, she felt some of the anger she had felt when doing his drug test course through her.

"On another note, how dare you leave the country without even saying goodbye! I thought we were good enough friends that you would want to at least say something to me before leaving, but apparently not! And so soon after getting shot, what in the world were you thinking Sherlock? Shooting a well-known man in front of John and Mycroft of all things! Honestly Sherlock! "

An awkward silence followed her outburst as Sherlock very uncharacteristically lowered his eyes and advanced towards her.

"Molly, it had to be done. Magnussen had to be stopped, and it was made apparent that the only way to do it was to kill him. I had to protect John and Mary."

At his final words his eyes widened and for a split sentence he looked like he had said something he regretted.

Molly thought this over as Sherlock watched her carefully. If Sherlock truly did shoot Magnussen to protect John and Mary, he must have a good reason for it. But, Molly remembered, John and Mary had been living apart for sometime now, yet Sherlock spoke of them as a couple. She recalled that John had moved back into Baker Street directly after Sherlock had been shot, and Lestrade had told her that Sherlock wouldn't reveal anything about who shot him, even though it was clear from the position of the wound he knew who it was. He was protecting someone. And whom would Sherlock protect above all else?

"Sherlock", Molly said cautiously, "Why will you not reveal who shot you? Are you trying to protect someone? Are you trying to protect John?"

Molly watched as Sherlock's jaw clenched involuntarily at her words and his eyes darted back and forth, clearly surprised at her question.

He clasped his hands in front of him and moved so there was only the locker room bench between them.

"Before I go on, I want you to know that what I am about to tell you is of the utmost secrecy and will require every ounce of your discretion. I value your trust and I hope you know that you will always count to me, Molly."

Molly's breath quickened and she folded her fingers together in attempt to shield the fact that they were shaking from his ever-observant eye. Was she about to hear the truth from him about his mysterious shooter?

Sherlock leaned slightly forward so his eyes were more level with hers and took a deep breath.

"As you clearly have gathered, I was protecting John by not revealing the identity of my shooter. However, the conclusions I have reached and am convinced of, and believe John has finally accepted, is that she is still to be trusted, and only shot me to protect John and did not aim to kill."

"She?" Molly said in surprise. But that means there was only one person who could have shot Sherlock. "It couldn't be-"

"Yes, Molly. Mary was the one who shot me. John and I broke into Magnussen's office and I encountered Mary there about to shoot Magnussen. She shot me simply to protect the truth from John, the truth about her past and her former profession. She shot to incapacitate me, not to kill me. In fact, she called the ambulance the minute after she did it, before making her escape."

Sherlock said this all in one breath, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Molly could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Do you mean to say Mary is, was, an assassin? John married a former assassin without knowing it and she shot you?"

Molly could hardly believe what she was hearing. This was madness. Utter madness.

"She was an assassin, yes. But she is to be trusted, make no doubt of that."

Sitting down with a blank stare, Molly tried to comprehend all that she was hearing. She would trust Sherlock, if he said to trust Mary, then Mary she would trust.

If anything, this made her even angrier with Moriarty, more resolved that he needed to be ended. She _would _be the one to end him. No more harm would come to anyone else. No one else would be hurt. If Moriarty was going to burn the heart out of Sherlock, and if she was the key to that, she would gladly put herself out there to end him once and for all.

With her mind made up, Molly stood up and faced Sherlock with a grim expression.

"Sherlock, you may not like what I'm going to tell you, but I am going after Moriarty. He surely hasn't forgotten me for helping you fake your death, and I am certain it's part of his plan to target me as well. I am going to end this."

He reached out and grasped both her shoulders firmly.

"Molly, this isn't up to you. Moriarty is cruel and will stop at nothing to end me. He will not take it easy on you, or let you slip though the cracks. I will not let you do this alone."

Molly looked into his blue-green eyes with sadness and stepped out from beneath his hands. Gathering her bag she made her way to the door.

"We'll talk later, Sherlock, go home and get some rest. I am sure you're tired after almost being exiled."

His eyes narrowed at her purposely ignoring his statement, but he let her go. Drawing his phone out of his pocket he made to text Mycroft to upgrade her security status as he watched her brown ponytail flip over her back as she left.

"Goodbye Molly. Please be safe."

She shot a quick, tired smile at him over her shoulder and left the room. Molly had a plan. She was going to see Mary Watson. After all, it couldn't hurt to have an assassin on her side.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! Thank you!**


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